


Is this a moment?

by Peaterparker



Series: If You Wanna Find Hell With Me [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Def Leppard - Freeform, Florida is a hell hole but the gays have fun, M/M, Nail Polish, florida man owns the laundromat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 16:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peaterparker/pseuds/Peaterparker
Summary: laundry, nail painting, Cuban coffee, swoopy gut feelings of love?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: If You Wanna Find Hell With Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530518
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Is this a moment?

It was muggy in Florida, even at night, even in their so called winter. Steve had started calling them the No Sleep Club, much to Billy’s lament and El’s disregard. The three of them are in the brightly lit laundromat, the clock in the shape of a flamingo on the wall reads that it’s quarter past two in the morning but he feels wired. Wide awake actually after finally having had some decent fucking Cuban coffee. Billy hates it, Steve laughed so damn hard when Billy’s face had screwed up and he almost spit the beverage back out. Said it was too bitter, called Steve a fucking freak for ordering three cups in an hour.

“I like a lot of gross shit too, man, but what the actual fuck Steve?” He had said, used a napkin to wipe his tongue and everything. Always had the audacity to say that Steve was the dramatic one.

Now, Billy is sitting in the metal rolling clothes basket letting El paint his nails a midnight purple that has a little bit of silver glitter to it. It’s a nice color and it makes Billy’s hands look softer so Steve already fucking loves it. The laundry attendant is making his rounds with the broom, the third time he’s done it since they showed up forty minutes ago. He has a classic rock station on, Billy bops his head along with a few songs and smiles to himself when The House of the Rising Sun begins. 

The dryer rings out that the clothes are ready, loud over the music and it startles him a little. Makes him think of buzzers going off in secret Russian camps miles under the mall’s floors. El caps the polish and flits over to the dyer while Billy explains they have to make sure the clothes are dry. 

“Sometimes they’ll be warm and still a little damp, depending on how much shit you shove in there it won’t all dry the same. So take a shirt or something, shake it out and feel the material.” He nods when she looks at him as she’s flapping the shirt around. She shakes her head when she touches the shirt after. “Still damp?”

“Damp.” El repeats.

“Okay, put some more quarters in the machine.” 

El likes the routine of washing and drying. Hates doing chores, even if her social life depends on it, but seems to like Billy walking her through everything. She puts the coins in the dryer, holds a hand out to Billy without looking at him for more and he huffs a laugh when he hands them over. He hauls himself out of the basket, pats Steve’s knee where he’s sitting on the folding table as he passes and steps out to lean against the car to smoke. 

El gives him a loaded look, jerks her chin at Billy before rolling her eyes at Steve.

“He wants to talk to you.” She says, like Steve’s being dumb. “He thinks you’re mad at him.” 

“Why would I be mad at him?” He knows he’s giving her a weird look, wants to know when they started banding together or when she started being so knowledgeable in Billy Hargrove-isms. 

“You’re too quiet.” She shrugs. “Usually mad when you’re quiet. Especially to him.” 

Steve bites his lip, thinks it over. He was mad earlier, hated when Billy said and did stupid shit. Hated how he changed around his dad but understood the issue there. Billy had shut him out, more than once, so far. They’ve only been in Florida for a day, enough to find a room to stay in and a laundromat to clean their clothes with. Haven’t even made a plan for what they’d do when they found Eddie or something worse with the coordinates. El kicks his shoe and pointedly looks outside so he decides to get his shit together and go. 

“Bum a smoke?” He asks, smiles when Billy raises an eyebrow. “Left mine at the room.” They both know it’s a lie, his pack he just bought is sitting in the cup holder closest to the driver’s side but Billy gives him a cigarette and holds his lighter out just the same.

Steve was never really a big fan of menthols, likes them just fine when he's drunk but never sober. Billy’s always enjoyed menthols, Steve can remember seeing the blue line wrapped around the cigarette filter that lit up Billy’s blue eyes at parties. He holds back a cough and a wince at the taste in the back of his throat, knows he’s been caught out when Billy snorts. 

“You gotta work on your poker face, man.” Is all Billy says before he’s looking around at the empty parking lot again. 

“There’s a joke here about your taste in things that I won’t make.” Steve smiles when Billy rolls his eyes and flaps his hand like ‘yeah, yeah, chuck it up.’ 

Def Leppard is blaring out of the laundromat, El is pushing herself around in the laundry basket, and she points at them when they both snap their heads over. 

“It’s the leopard!” She yells and Billy bends at the waist and laughs so hard in a way Steve’s never seen. 

They’re smiling at each other, soft in the way people are at almost three in the morning in deserted parking lots. Steve thinks this is what the girls mean when they call something a ‘moment’. Billy’s looking at him, “you’ve gone straight to my head” screeching around them as the guitar solo takes over and Steve feels his heart beating faster. He feels like Billy is drawing him in, a magnetic pulling force to get them closer. He’s warm, he’s partially safe and Billy’s alive and smiling. Florida might be Satan’s armpit but he thinks he’ll always remember it fondly.


End file.
